Posts from the ‘Jackson Heights’ Category

Aug 30

Pollos a la Brasa Mario

Rotisserie chicken can go in so many directions. And frequently that direction is boring (don’t even get me started on recipes that require a store-bought chicken, have you use the meat and throw away the skin). Yet, somehow on Saturday night it was decided that Latin-style chicken should be dinner.

I’m kind of partial to Peruvian renditions mainly because I like the punchy green sauce that often accompanies it. But maybe I’m just thinking of Pio Pio (I don’t think Pardo’s has it). The September Latino Gourmet has a recipe for Peruvian but they don’t make any mention of an aji salsa on the side (I’m so not crazy about the Epicurious re-design. The new recipes haven’t even been put online yet). The soy sauce in the marinade is an interesting cross-cultural addition, though. Fried rice, a.k.a. chaufa, is also a regional anomaly.

Due to a series of uninteresting circumstances, we ended up on a Jackson Heights block with three options: Casa de Pollo Peruano (too packed), Gusty Chicken (closed) and Pollos a la Brasa Mario. I’d been by the multi-level 24-hour Colombian joint with a bird mascot (maybe they all have bird mascots) a million times and had never stopped in. It was the perfect occasion.

I was always under the impression that Mario was kind of fast foodish and chicken heavy (perhaps, that’s more Frisby, the new game in town.). The formica booths and laminated picture menus imply so, but many of the entrees are substantial and over $20 (in my experience, Colombian portions are intimidatingly huge).

Sure, Rayuela has a live olive tree, but Mario has a sprawling fake orange tree and framed posters of cartoon animals eating the cuisine. My favorite was the Sylvester the Cat rip-off with an arepa and strip of chicharon. There was also a horse grilling something indiscernible.

It was Saturday night and crocks of seafood stew and teeming multi-meat platters graced many a table. But we came with a simple mission and stuck by it. Whole chicken. I wanted yuca frita, James ordered frijoles grande, which were way too grande and studded with a few bones so you knew you were in for ham-hockiness. White rice is standard but I prefer my Latin starches rooty and fried.

Marioyuca As accompaniments, you’re given a puree of green chile, thick and more scoopable than a usual salsa verde and a squirt bottle of what seemed like Thousand Island dressing minus the relish chunks. The two mixed together made a nice, visually repulsive dipping sauce for the yuca.

Mario is as good as a brightly lit rotisserie chicken restaurant might be, though it’ll likely be some time before I ever get around to a re-visit. There are so many contenders (what with all those Korean fried chickens crying for my attention) in the global poultry game that it’s impossible to stick with any one eatery or style.

Pollos a la Brasa Mario * 81-01 Roosevelt Ave., Jackson Heights, NY

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May 22

Xtasis

Hot dogs, whether simple or overstuffed, mystery meat or all beef, make me queasy. Even so, I’m fascinated by what Colombians do to fast food staples. On a recent accidental foray onto Northern Boulevard I noticed that Mazorca had closed and that Xtasis had expanded from a rinky-dink storefront into a glowing, acid pink eatery triple the size.

They do a similar thing as La Perrada de Chalo but actually have fewer choices. Where Perrada goes wild with random styles like the Iraqui and Mexicana, Xtasis offers a handful of choices including Hawaiiana (ham, crushed potato chips, pineapple sauce, white cheese), something translated Super Cowboy and the Super Xtasis with hard boiled egg, bacon, thousand island dressing, avocado, chips and I’m not even sure what else. I love all edibles Hawaiian so that was it for me.

But on a burger, which are equally popular as the massive perros mixtos. I’ll admit that it’s not the best burger ever. The flavors aren’t terribly cohesive, the meat is barely perceptible in the condiment strata and it’s next to impossible to fit in your mouth. Normally, I like a toasted bun but in this presentation it induces crumbling. But it is fun, assuming gut bombing is your idea of a good time.

One peculiarity is that beef burgers are not only offered but chicken too. Oh, and that they have two sinks sitting prominently in the dining area (vaguely discernable in photo on the left). It's not like there isn't a bathroom sink, so are they implying that the food is so messy that extra wash stations are warranted?

You can also try snacky things that tend to involve wieners, eggs and yuca. If it hadn’t been so chilly and stormy, I might’ve tried a cholado, shaved ice and fruit concoctions that sometimes get drizzled with condensed milk. They seem nearly Asian but not as wacky as halo-halo.

Xtasis * 82-12 Northern Blvd., Jackson Heights, NY

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Apr 25

Taqueria Coatzingo

This is one of those unassuming places that I thought for sure I’d mentioned before, so I’d just rattle off a mini update. It looks like I’ve never said a peep about Coatzingo, though. Allow me a few words.

Many say the specials are the way to go. I believe that but could only snack because I knew I’d have to eat dinner in the Bronx in a few hours (Joe’s Place, for which photos only will have to suffice). My between meal time would only last as long as I could kill time at the Riverdale Target (which I was imagining could be no worse than the most busted in the universe downtown Brooklyn location—it was about on par and possibly worse, all the large sizes were gone because 85% of the shoppers were also XL and beyond. I did get asked my advice on a high school graduation dress, which was cute but seemed a little casual for such a ceremony, then I remembered that I’d worn knee-high motorcycle boots to mine because I thought I was badass, so cheerily agreed, “yes, that would be a great graduation dress.”)

I did write down a few specials listed on the clear plastic encased stands on each table (actually, not our table, which didn’t seem intentional. Not to over personalize everything, but very frequently I also seem to get the only table that’s either missing a candle or has one that’s burned down to a nub). They’re not in English like the regular menu and a few stumped me. Pansa blanca and pansa negra, I think are like blood pudding. Huazontles, I had no idea, but it seems that they are a wild green similar to broccoli. I understood mushroom quesadillas and tripe tacos (which I ordered without realizing they were a special). There were about five other dishes to pick from.

I always order three tacos when I really only need two. I went right to left, and luckily, the first, tripa, was best. My hunger had waned by the time I got to the poor al pastor and it didn’t get my full attention (though, of course I ate the whole thing because I hate wasting food even if it’s $2 food that I get reimbursed for). I’ve never had a tripe taco, not because I’m grossed out but because I figured it would be boiled and boring. It wasn’t. Honestly, I’m not sure how it was prepared but the strips were meaty, gelatinous and crisp. Lots of variety in a little package. I normally like carnitas the most, for the same qualities I found in the tripe. Their rendition was as good as any.

If you're wondering what that tangle of lettuce, salsa verde, cream and carne asada is, it's a huarache, like the shoe but not. Capezios, jellies, pointy flats (god forbid, Docs) are all back or coming back, so why not the huarache?

All was fine until two “Stellas” (named for a neighbor who’s incredibly demanding, frequently wronged, disproportionately assertive) came in and made a fuss about wanting taco salad. The waitress did speak English so it wasn’t a language barrier causing confusion, though the women seemed to think that was the case. Despite our big mess of a melting pot, cultural sensitivity isn’t one NYC’s strengths. And I swear I heard some snippet about, “you don’t have to discriminate against us.” Wha? How is not having a taco salad on a menu offending anyone?

While in Hong Kong I ate at a former speakeasy Sichuan restaurant Da Ping Huo. You needed reservations, it was mildly sequestered, omakase-style ordering, and intimate (we were actually the only two diners the entire evening). While we were dining this large British family walked in off the streets and threw a fit because there weren’t any menus. It started getting very uncomfortable as they began harassing the waiter like they’d never heard of something so absurd as a restaurant without a list of dishes and prices. Finally, they left in a huff. I felt bad for the staff because they barely spoke English and then they felt bad and began apologizing to us for having to witness the situation. Sheesh, you’re the one who is ignorant so why are you making everyone around you feel like shit?

Anyway, I didn’t leave Coatzingo feeling like shit. Perhaps, just a little full. I also must note that they must be doing good business. Sure, it was filled to capacity our entire meal, but the mark of making it is their new-to-me glossy, technicolor take out menu. Thankfully, they kept the mustachioed corn ear with a sombrero logo. I like to imagine that if he had a catchy name like he should it would be Maizstro (pronounced like maestro). Anthropomorphic pitchmen aren’t so in anymore, maybe he could start a revival.

Taqueria Coatzingo * 76-05 Roosevelt Ave., Jackson Heights, NY

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Apr 20

Listo el Pollo

1/2 I would be talking out of my ass if I called Listo el Pollo the Colombian Hooters because I’ve never been to a Hooters. But I’d like to imagine that this Jackson Heights oddity is better than a Hooters. They’ve mastered out the ok food, made better than ok by young waitresses in skimpy attire approach. That might’ve been enough in its own right, but the restaurant also appears to be a former tiki lounge that was lightly, if at all, redecorated to reflect the Latin American cuisine.

I suppose it’s possible that bamboo, coconuts carved into monkey faces, palm trees and Sex on the Beach drinks (I was confused by a cocktail simply called Alexander—that’s like vodka and tomato juice being dubbed Mary) could be found in Colombia. On the other hand, there’s nothing Polynesian about the white, ruffly grandma curtains that make each booth feel like a private paradise. That must be the Colombian touch.

Really, the ladies’ costumes are more campy than sexy, sort of a pirate/dirndl hybrid (I witnessed something similar in Hua Hin, which I didn’t realize was a German expat stronghold and lots of the restaurants served muesli and sausages and had Thai waitresses gussied up in dirndls) composed of a short skirt and corseted top. I’m not one to be bold with photo taking so my only evidence is a stealth shot with a server in the background. Sure, there were some groups of guys there for the ogling but mostly the clientele is composed of families and couples.

In my limited but rapidly expanding Colombian food experience it seems that they truly are the masters of the large combo plate. I stuck with the roasted chicken and ordered a half when ¼ would’ve been sufficient. For $6 and change it was a bargain, coming with white rice, fat pink beans dotted with pork, and a boiled red potato (I was hoping for something starchy and fried) and a tough nugget of an arepa.

James got the whole bandeja shebang with steak, chicken, pork, yuca fries, plaintain, arepa. Maybe more, I can’t remember. We also got a little white pitcher of herbier than spicy salsa and salads with a selection of Kraft dressing packets. At least we had a choice between Italian, French and Ranch–at Honduras Maya we just got a plastic bottle of Kraft Italian, no options.

We also ordered Coronas, which came preparado, a new concept to me where they’re served in salt-rimmed glasses over ice with a slice of lime. It was no Alexander, but it sufficed.

Atmosphere can be half the battle with many restaurants, a poor one will piss me off for life even if the food is superior, while a fun one will elevate an otherwise ordinary meal. Listo el Pollo put me in an unexpectedly good mood for which I have to give them high marks. Plus, my inexpensive dinner provided me with lunch the following day.

Listo el Pollo * 8602 37th Ave., Jackson Heights, NY

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Feb 13

Tierras Colombianas

I’m not sure what it is with Colombians and excess (maybe it has more to do with my ordering style). Over the summer I became acquainted with potato chip, avocado, mayo, ham, bacon and tomato topped perros calientes. This weekend I met the bandeja campesina, an overflowing country plate. It makes me wonder whether a city platter would be heartier or more delicate.

I immediately liked Tierras Colombianas. The spacious all-booths set up and self-promoting paper placemats make me happy like a Latin Denny’s. Red foil paper and hearts were festively bedecking random surfaces. I particularly liked the cut out heart tucked beneath the wall art golden god like he’d crapped it out (ok, maybe he was just sitting on it). Romantic.

We ordered an arepa and chorizo appetizer despite anticipating massive entrees. Colombian arepas are smaller, paler and chewier than better-known Venezuelan versions. They don’t immediately give when cut with the side of a fork. The chorizo was tangy, green-speckled and herby and bursting with cumin. We ordered it to try a few bites, knowing it would likely end up in a doggie bag.

James’s bistec empanizado, breaded beef cutlet, which also appeared on at least half of other diners’ plates, was practically the size of a deflated football. But I got the whammy. There was nothing bucolic about the long crispy-fat strip of chicharron, thin grilled steak, maduros, white rice, soupy yellow-tinged beans, a third of an avocado, arepa and fried egg crowning the whole beautiful mess. A spoonful of genuinely spicy green salsa completed the picture.

Sure, the country plate is a couple meals in one, and that’s how I treated it. I skipped breakfast and made a late lunch and 1 am dinner out of it. Never mind that an ice cream sundae snuck in between those two feedings.

Tierras Colombianas * 8218 Roosevelt Ave., Jackson Heights, NY

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Dec 28

Burmese Cafe

*Dang, the word on the internets is that Burmese Cafe is over. I too, saw the gates down last weekend and worried. (11/16/07)

I can’t even begin to explain how misguided it was to try and peacefully shop at the Elmhurst Target the Friday before Christmas (and this was intended as an antidote to the always troubling Atlantic Center Target that had been attempted earlier in the day) so I’ll refrain. But at least I was able to squeeze in a new Roosevelt Avenue Asian restaurant into the migraine-inducing trip. Burmese Café appears to have taken over the corner spot that used to be Karihan ni Tata Bino.

My only experience with Burmese food includes two non-recent visits to Rangoon in Philadelphia and a late '90s undocumented delivery meal from Village Mingala in the East Village (strangely, Village Mingala is quite possibly the first restaurant I ever set foot in in NYC. I first visited in '94 and accompanied a friend to pick up a take out order for the artsy bisexual Indonesian girl who was letting us stay at her 11th St. and Ave. C walk-up). I recall things like night market noodles and thousand layer bread, rich dishes that hinted at India. Burmese Café is nothing like that.

Part of me doesn’t want to admit that their food wasn’t immediately accessible. Some cuisines jump out while others don’t. I find Thai and Sichuan food grabs my attention without even trying, and not just because of the spice. Also heat-driven and good-oily, Malaysian and Indonesian fall right behind. Burmese feels like it’s in the realm of Laotian or Cambodian, lesser known and kind of raw and sharp. Though I don’t think Myanmar shares much in common with the Philippines, the vinegary, bitter, pungent qualities I tasted in the dishes we ordered felt vaguely Filipino. The style could grow on me but I have to get to know it better.

Lephet Thoke

The tea leaf salad truly is a strange combo, hot, sour and crunchy all at once. It seemed to contain sesame seeds, sliced green chiles, bean sprouts, dried broad beans, peanuts, dried shrimp and tomato slices. James, who’s fairly open-minded food-wise said, “I hope it tastes better than it looks.” It did look a little swampy. Let’s just say I had plenty of leftovers for lunch the next day (it's better fresh because after a few hours the crunch turns to mush). I was thinking the leaves would be dry like you’d find in a teabag but they’re wet and fermented, very much like grape leaves for dolmas. I don't recall it being described as using green tea leaves, but that's the case.

Duck Soup

I thought it was strange that James ate this without complaint since it was way funkier than the tea leaf salad. It contained bitter greens that might’ve been mustard, odd bits of poultry and blobs of liver (which only I ate) in a sour broth. James compared this to something his mom might cook, unconsciously delving into a heavily boiled, vinegary Filipino repertoire that his Midwestern father isn’t fond of.

Beef Curry

Ok, I “got” this dish. It’s basically Burmese rendang, stiff chunks of meat stewed with coconut milk and aromatics until most of the liquid is absorbed. Like I was saying above about Malay-Indonesian food being good-oily. I’m not scared of the shiny orange pool that coats the bowl.

Burmese Café * 71-34 Roosevelt Ave., Jackson Heights, NY

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Sep 25

El Chivito d’Oro

1/2 I really wanted Uruguayan food to be distinctly different from Argentinean so I could be more emphatic in my piece about unique Latin American food, but at least as far as grilled meat is concerned they're kind of interchangeable. There is an Uruguayan and Paraguayan bakery in Woodside but as far as sit down restaurants go, I'm fairly certain that Chivito d'Oro is the only Uruguayan restaurant in NYC.

For some unknown reason, 37th Avenue is home to a slew of parilladas. This strip also seems to have some rule about consistent awnings and storefront, many seem to have a '90s nearly suburban style. One block south on Roosevelt it's mish mash paradise, the signage is a mess and practically every Latin American cuisine you can think co-mingles with Thai, Filipino and Tibetan. 37th is steakhouses, but not in the Peter Luger dry aged vein. Mixed grills are the specialties and the bargain of $19.95 for a single serving ($27.99 for two) that easily feeds two (or three daintier eaters) isn't lost on patrons. On weekend, the foyer at Chivito is jam packed. We didn't even bother on a Saturday around 10pm and went to Izalco instead.

Due to the Italian influence on this part of South America, pastas are prevalent, but I'm barely a fan of even exquisitely prepared Italian food by Italians (I know, I'm a freak) so I've never ventured to that side of the menu. James wanted to be different and opted for a chicken dish, which isn't necessarily lighter than the red meat. His chicken francesa consisted of two pounded, breaded cutlets in a lemon sauce. I didn't taste it but with rice it could've nearly passed for Chinese food.

If you order the parillada, which you should, your carnivore's delight comes on a little tabletop grill warmed by candles. The contents include skirt steak, another kind of steak that I'm not sure about, morcilla (my Spanish tutor didn't think I knew what this was when recounting my meal the following week. Hey, I'm all about sangre, no fears here. The blood sausage is actually one of my favorite parts of the whole shebang), ribs, pork sausage and sweetbreads. They went easier on the organ meats than the Argentinean steakhouse I tried a few years back. My choice of starch was roasted potato wedges. I made it through about half of the items. The vinegary chimichurri is a must and cuts through the richness. Of course, it's oil-based and rich in and of itself. You can't think about calories in these situations. You might as well stay home and eat microwaved Amy's enchiladas, if you have food fears.

The clientele was a mix on our weeknight visit. There were plenty of Hispanic families, but there was also a table of Eastern Europeans who came after us, breezed through their meat and left before our last bites. There also wasn't a shortage of Queens-y types getting take out and reminding the counter guy not to forget the rolls (which are quite good and charred with grill marks).

I'm not schooled enough to recommend Chivito d'Oro over nearby favorites La Porteña or La Fusta or countless others, though I don't want to say they're interchangeable either. It's worth a jaunt on the 7 train to investigate, though.

El Chivito d'Oro * 84-02 37th Ave., Jackson Heights, NY

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Jul 1

Perro Caliente

Don't be scared of the South American hot dog. My overstuffed wiener and bun induced stomach trauma from a few weeks ago is now far enough in the past that I can share some photos from my culinary experimenting. The actual article will likely appear in the New York Post in a Wednesday or two so I won't get wordy here. Ok, they ended up using my "Dog Days" piece in a larger summer food round-up.

Update 5/07: It looks like Mazorca has shuttered. I never go down Northern Blvd. so it's also news to me that Xtasis, across the street, has expanded into a pink neon palace.

Perro Mixto: ham, bacon, mayo, tomatoes, avocado, crushed potato chips

Hawaiiana: mayo, avocado, pineapple, potato chips, ham

Mazorca * 83-17 Northern Blvd. Jackson Heights, NY

Iraqui: mayo, hard boiled eggs, pineapple sauce, cheese

Mexicana: avocado, cheese, chiles, mayo

La Perrada de Chalo * 83-12 Northern Blvd., Jackson Heights, NY

El Completo: avocado, mayo, tomatoes, sauerkraut

JC & Family * 68-14 Roosevelt Ave. Woodside, NY

I forgot to take photos of the completo at my favorite place, San Antonio Bakery, but I did capture the beef empanada and dulce de leche layer cake.

San Antonio #2 * 36-20 Astoria Blvd. Astoria, NY

Apr 2

Hornado Ecuatoriano

I don't think I've ever met a plate of roast pork I didn't like. Lechon, hornado, whatever you call it. Rich, fatty meat and nice crme brulee-crisp skin topping. It's nothing fancy (and certainly nothing healthy) but it's one of my favorite things. Maybe it's because I've never been able to reproduce the moist-crunchy masterpiece at home. And it's for the best, or I'd be digging an early porcine grave.

When I end up on Roosevelt Ave., eating is a must. The tough question is Asian or Latin American? I could easily go either way, but my two top choices along that strip would be Thai or Filipino.

I never know if it's a language issue or if I'm just hard to understand, though I got what I came for. English isn't really spoken and most of the menu isn't translated, so you kind of have to know what you want (or speak Spanish, duh). James got all weird and randomly ordered arroz con pollo, which I wouldn't do at an Ecuadorian restaurant. The massive chewy yellow rice had bits of chicken strewn through out and a sweet fried plantain draped across the oval dish. He wasn't thrilled, but it's not my fault he ordered poorly.

Me, I had a nice heap of pork, generous pile of white hominy and two little arepas with a side salad that was tasty enough to not completely ignore. This food is filling to say the least. And they say Americans are corn crazy. I love hominy, maybe more than corn. It's chewy and more satisfying on the teeth you can really bite into it. I didn't get one of the fruity batidos that seemed to be on every table (there were a few pitchers of sangria being consumed, as well) though they did look refreshing.

Hornado Ecuatoriano * 76-18 Roosevelt Ave., Jackson Heights, NY

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Apr 10

Karihan ni Tata Bino

1/2 * Closed. I'm not sure when it changed hands but it's now Burmese Cafe (12/22/06)

It's rare that I get to indulge a Filipino food craving. James has issues with the cuisine, which I suppose stems from bad childhood memories. I have an aversion to Banquet frozen fried chicken and taco salad with Catalina dressing, so it happens.

The dining room is small, and on the Sunday afternoon we visited, full to the brim. You almost feel like youre invading someones house, a friendly house, but still. The lack of anonymity doesnt bother me. Everyone was watching a horror movie in Tagalog on TV. Unfortunately, the screen was directly behind my head so I actually had to concentrate on my food. I did get the gist, via James, that the plot had something to do with curses stemming from being too lucky.

I'm crazy for lechon, and fried pork in general. Crispy pata seemed like an interesting variant. It's translated as pig knuckle, but I think there's some leg in there too, not just a foot. You cant be squeamish about fat and odd bits with Filipino cuisine (fats the least of it–ears, intestines, blood, its all to be eaten). With pata, you get a contrast of crunchy skin, gooey insides and porcine flesh. The vinegary dipping sauce is a tart foil for the grease. We also tried do order something vegetable heavy, minus coconut milk and/or fried preparation, and opted for fresh lumpia, which is kind of like chop suey filled crepes drizzled with peanut sauce. To round things out, we also ordered two grilled pork skewers.

I was completely satisfied, but it might be a while before I return. If only because that part of Queens contains such concentration of food goodness that it seems a shame to not experiment a little.

Karihan ni Tata Bino * 71-34 Roosevelt Ave., JacksonHeights, NY

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Posts from the ‘Jackson Heights’ Category

Pollos a la Brasa Mario

Xtasis

Taqueria Coatzingo

Listo el Pollo

Tierras Colombianas

Burmese Cafe

El Chivito d’Oro

Perro Caliente

Hornado Ecuatoriano

Karihan ni Tata Bino

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